


Tammy Faye Eyes

by TurntechLoveThis (angelcult)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Albino Dave Strider, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Morally Ambiguous Character, Murder, One-Sided Attraction, References to True Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:55:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23724922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelcult/pseuds/TurntechLoveThis
Summary: Bro isn’t scared of his brother, he isn’t but.. There’s something not quite right about him.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Tammy Faye Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off the song Tammy Faye by Nicole Dollanganger! I suggest giving it a listen while you read!

Dave was bone-deep sadness, he was blood on white tile and sleep deprivation personified. He was a connoisseur of beauty and depravity, at least, that’s what he’s told himself. 

His Bro says he’s none of those, he says that he’s like a lost child of one of those murder cults, took to calling him “Sadie” when he saw him dissecting the dead crows and lizards he found. 

_“You almost done wit’ your little science project there, Sadie?”_

It sent shudders up Dave’s spine, made him close his eyes and smile to himself. He wonders if Bro knows that he knows the origin of the name.

  
  


Dave thinks Bro is beautiful, he thinks the way he hides his freckles behind shades and collared shirts and hats is cute, he’s quite the fan of Bro’s eyes whenever he can get the wayward glimpse of them. That shade of orange was one that could never be replicated, but in so many stolen pictures and sketches, he _tried,_ though they were all failures. 

Nothing could compare to his Bro.

  
  


There is something _wrong_ with Bro’s brother, something inexcusable and sick, that can’t be cut out with a scalpel or sweated out like a fever. 

_“Did you know that Sadie Atkin tasted Sharon Tate’s blood after she killed her? She was stupid, told two other criminals in jail with her..”_

It was followed by the swipe of his (thankfully, _clean_ ) scalpel across his tongue. It was so shocking that Bro hadn’t even realized what was happening until his brother was swallowing down blood before sticking his still bleeding tongue out and then pouting.

_“I shouldn’t swallow anymore of this, it’ll make me sick.”_

  
  


He stopped calling him “Sadie” very soon after but the damage was already done. 

  
  


Light spilled from the TV, painting Bro bright colors that danced across his skin like a kaleidoscope. His hat and glasses were on the coffee table as he laid stretched out on the futon, asleep.

Dave was careful, light on his feet, he avoided every creaky spot on the thin carpeted floor, soon found himself standing over his brother. 

He could feel his heart beating hard and fast in his chest, so loud he feared it would wake Bro up as he watched him. 

Bro’s cheeks were smattered in freckles, so many and so hard to count, and his cheeks were pink in his sleep, _warm_ but Dave wasn’t going to try and touch, the fact that he lasted this long watching him without Bro waking up was surprising in and of itself. 

Leaning down over him, Dave got close enough to see those white-blond eyelashes and the pale scars on his neck, and he smiled a little.

_He was so beautiful._

Once he’d gotten his fill, and _god,_ it was a temporary one, it was always temporary because with Bro it would never be enough, he crept back to his room. 

  
  


At breakfast, Bro was looking at him oddly, eyebrows knitted together but he didn’t speak to him. It was the most emotion he’d seen on his brother’s face in a while, his face had even stayed mostly blank after he cut his tongue with the scalpel. 

“.. Is there a problem, Bro? Do I have something on my face?” He put his spoonful of cereal down to touch at his face but Bro waved the question off, a silent _no_ but he didn’t speak, just looked back at his phone.

Breakfast was silent. 

  
  
  


“Bro? Bro what the hell, man! You can’t just-“ Dave pleading was met with indifference as Bro continued to box up his plethora of preserved lizards and cat skulls.

“Where are your knives, l’il man?” 

“My- my _knives?_ \- Bro, what are you doing this for, what-“ His voice was quickly getting choked up and rough, but the elder Strider opted to ignore it in favor of boxing up his knives and scalpels as well.

“I’m doin’ this because-“ And he cut himself off, scared to admit how deeply unnerving his brother had become, how deeply unnerving he always _was,_ so he opted for a stern silence only interrupted by Dave’s soft sniffling.

Once everything remotely dangerous and/or morbid was packed up, Bro turned towards his brother only to be met with the sight of his ruddy red cheeks and tears. 

Dave sniffled again and wiped his eyes but it didn’t stop the flow of tears down his cheeks, and he glanced at the boxes before he looked back at his brother.

“Why are you doing this? You’re hurting me.” 

“I’m doing this to keep you safe,” _because I’m scared,_ “you could have died the other day cutting yourself like that.” _And you’re all I’ve got left, little brother._

“I wouldn’t have! I know what I’m doing and you _know_ that I do! You’re doing this because you’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

“Dave, you know that’s not why-“

“It _is!_ You’re mad at me about somethin’ and now I’m in trouble and I don’t even know what I did, Bro!” His voice went up into a high whine as he once again dissolved into tears, burying his face in his hands. 

Bro felt his resolve crumbling, he was always weak to Dave’s tears.

“Davey, you know that’s not why. I just told you why I’m doing this. I’m not mad at you, promise.”

“So why are you taking what makes me happy?”

Dave dropped his arms to his side and Bro was met with the full effect of Dave’s bambi eyes. 

They were big and round and wet with tears, his eyelashes clung together in clumps and his shoulders were curled in, making himself smaller, like he was _scared._

Like he was scared of _Bro._

“Dave…” With a sigh, Bro pulled his brother close and let him bury his face in his chest, uncaring of the tears and snot that would ruin the polo until the next wash. 

Maybe if his brother’s face wasn’t hidden, he could have seen the self-satisfied smile on his face, maybe he would have known that he’d stepped right into the bear trap and now his ankle was mangled and broken. 

_Maybe, maybe…_

  
  


The lizards and bones and knives were promptly returned to their rightful place shortly after and there were no more incidents with the scalpels, much to Bro’s relief.

The apartment was back to relative normality, if Bro counted his brother occasionally watching him sleep _normal,_ but if this stopped him from turning his scalpel on himself in boredom, he’d turn a blind eye to it. 

  
  


It was okay until it wasn’t.

  
  


Bro should have known that the vulture culture was a start, he should have known that no child should ever have such dead eyes. He’d known something was wrong, _witnessed the wrongness,_ and he didn’t stop it. 

It wasn’t like he showed up covered in blood, with tears in his eyes and regret in his voice; he just washed his face. 

Walked right past Bro on the futon with a bloody face (that’s the _only_ place the blood was) and washed his face off in the kitchen sink, dropped his shades in and let the water run over them before he dug under the cabinet and grabbed the bleach, completely ignoring his brother. 

It was quiet except for the sound of running water. 

The smell of bleach was thick and cloying, being that close to it, Bro knew that his brother’s eyes must have been burning and red with irritation.

Still, neither spoke. 

They stayed quiet until Dave walked back over and dropped down beside him on the couch, looked Bro right in the eyes and tilted his head before pulling out his phone and looking down at the screen as if this was normal. 

_It wasn’t._

“Dave.” No response. “ _Dave._ ” Still nothing. “Dave!”

The albino jumped, nearly dropped his phone as he turned towards his brother, his uncovered eyes tracking Bro’s face but it was neutral.

“Dave, is there something you want to tell me? Something a little important before I either turn you in or kill you myself?”

Dave dropped his phone into his lap and went to hop up from the couch when Bro grabbed his wrist and dragged him back down, gripping him so that he couldn’t move. 

“Bro, you’re hurting me-“

“What did you _do, Dave._ ” 

“No one’s going to miss him.” 

It got quiet again, and Bro’s grip hadn’t loosened once. Dave could feel the bruise forming, the popping of capillaries and the grinding of the bones in his wrist.

“You’re _hurting_ me.” Dave whimpered again, eyes getting teary, trying to yank himself away only for Bro to pull him right back.

“You fucking killed someone, what the hell is wrong with you-“

“Bro, let me go, you’re going to bruise my arm, let me-“

“What the fuck was even going through your head? Did you even **think** -“

“You’re hurting me!” 

Dave’s voice was loud, yelled over their angry voices until it was once again quiet.

It felt like they were on a tightrope, neither knew which actions would make it snap in half beneath them. 

Bro let him go slowly, skin and leather seeming to peel off of Dave’s skin and he ignored the guilt of having hurt him like that. The boy yanked his arm to his chest, and examined the deep red mark with tears trailing down his cheeks. 

“Why’d you.. Why’d you do that, Bro?” 

His voice cracked with tears and his hand hovered over the purpling bruise, sniffling before his eyes fell back on his brother.

“Dave. What. Did you. Do.” 

Dave locked eyes with Bro’s shades and shrugged his shoulders.

“What I had to.” 

“That is not a reason, that’s not even close to a fucking excuse. You could go to jail, Dave, you’re seventeen, you’ll be in there for _life._ ”

“I won’t go because no one’s going to catch me and he was a bad person, she said _no_ to him, I was just-“

Bro stood up, making Dave fall silent.

“Don’t justify yourself to me.”

Quiet.

Dave’s snuffling was the only sound that could be heard, and Bro found himself unable to look at him while he was crying, he knew he’d crumble into the big brother that he was, the one who’d do anything for his baby brother. 

Again. 

Just like the incident in the bedroom, he wouldn’t be able to stay stern with him. 

“Go to your room.”

Dave stayed quiet as he scampered past him and Bro’s only dejected thought was that he had messed his brother up something terrible. 

Dave hadn’t watched him sleep in a week, and it was as nerve wracking as it was relieving. He barely left his room, on an unofficial grounding since Bro was sure that “what to do if your brother-slash-son turns out to be a sociopath” is _not_ in the Patented Parental Unit Manual. 

Bro had seen it on the news, as police searched for the “man suspected to be in his twenties who weighs at least two-hundred pounds” because the murder had been so gruesome and full of anger that no one would suspect the seventeen year old albino that didn’t weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet to be the suspect. 

Dave was in the clear, just barely, since no one even remembered the boy being in the general vicinity.

Bro blamed that damn sword training. 

  
  


“Bro.”

Two weeks since he’d left the house or watched Bro sleep, and his Bambi eyes were ringed black like he wasn’t sleeping well, or at all.

Bro hated the feeling of maternal instinct that swelled in him. 

He’d been his mother and father before he’d ever been his brother, he’d always love him, even when there was blood on his hands. 

Even if Dave.. loved him like _that,_ Bro would love him.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Hopeful, pleading. 

And Bro was weak, he was so weak to his brother.

“Yes.” 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @turntech-lovethis!


End file.
